


An Unexpected Journey

by Viera_LR



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: AU, AU of an AU, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, City Elves, Denerim Alienage, Eventual Smut, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mages (Dragon Age), Non-Canon AU of an AU, Other, Redcliffe, Templars (Dragon Age), Thedas, coarse language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 14:45:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5094602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viera_LR/pseuds/Viera_LR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So what if... Sierra Jones <em>wasn't</em> the only Earth-born person to end up in Thedas?</p><p>Between taking care of her daughter, house keeping, catching up on much needed sleep, and wrangling her baby-daddy, Jemimah would often play Dragon Age in her spare time, most recently Dragon Age: Inquisiition. She wasn't expecting to collapse in her living room and find herself in the world of Thedas-<em>during the Fifth Blight!</em><br/>Ever the pragmatist, she hopes that by helping end the Fifth Blight, she can return to her daughter.<br/>But things are <em>never</em> quite so simple...</p><p>Alternate Universe to There and Back Again.</p><p>Thanks to ElyssaCousland for giving me the green light for this, and credit goes to her for her OC characters, Sierra Jones and Blake, various character descriptions for her Cousland, Amell, Aeducan, Brosca, and her head-canon on Dragon Age in general.</p><p>I STRESS THAT THIS IS NOT CANON TO HER WORK. It was my own head-canoning gone out of hand... So I'm going to do as few chapters as is humanly possible!</p><p>SPOILERS EVERYWHERE up to DA:I Tresspasser.</p><p>Dragon Age belongs to Bioware.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unexpected Journey

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [There and Back Again](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085037) by [ElyssaCousland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElyssaCousland/pseuds/ElyssaCousland). 



> I spell with NZ English grammar.
> 
> Contains coarse language.
> 
> Since my OC is a Kiwi, I'll probably throw in a word or phrase that will make little sense to most people outside of NZ, so when appropriate I shall endeavor to add "translations" at the end of each chapter. Please feel free to comment me if I've forgotten to do so, or if something doesn't make sense. :-D

My head throbbed as I pushed myself off the floor-ground-whatever it was that I was lying on-and into a sitting position. The last thing I remembered was the my cellphone ringing while I was cleaning the bathtub, so I went into the lounge, grabbed it and then... the room was spinning around me and after that, nothing. Just an all-encompassing darkness swirling around me.

Then, in the darkness, I heard a... an old woman _cackle_? Or was she telling me to wake up? _No, that couldn't be right, unless I'm having a bad dream or I'm just on a really bad trip_. But I didn't take drugs. I hated the stuff. So then why...

My vision began to focus in the dim light, and when I took in a deep breath through my mouth, I noticed the air tasted salty. I blinked once, twice, and there it was; the vast ocean, as far as the eye could see; indigo in the fading light, rolling and surging around jagged rocks meters beneath me. My heart pounded in my chest as fear gripped me. _How t_ _he fuck did I get_ here _? Have I been fucking kidnapped?_

I breathed deeply again, this time trying to steady my nerves. I knew that freaking out wasn't going to get me home any faster, so after a while when I finally felt calm enough I tried to focus on my surroundings to get my bearings. Nobody else was with me, so I took that as a good sign. I stood up, noticed that I was standing on some sort of ledge or cliff, and above that was another ledge - probably the land proper. I took a step towards the upper ledge looking for a way up when I stood on something crunchy. I peered down to see that I had accidentally crushed a bouquet of flowers, _a memorial perhaps? Maybe some poor kid fell off here or something._

Then my heart ached. However I got into this messed up situation, _thank God Ali wasn't home with me this weekend_. If I had been abducted, the thought of something happening to my daughter was too much... I let a couple of tears fall before wiping them away on my sleeve and gritted my teeth. Whoever did this to me was going to regret it, _crazy motherfucker-whoever they are-trying to mess with me._

After allowing the rage wash over me, I realised, with a snort, that I was gripping my phone, the headphones dangling to the ground. I desperately peered into the screen to see how much reception I had, and my heart sank into my bowels - none.

 _Well fuck_ , I thought to myself, _should have known that shit wasn't going to be easy._ _Can't even use GPS or data..._ "Ugh." So I turned it off to conserve power, wrapped the headphones around it and popped it into my back pocket.

I looked out over the sea, anxiety threatening to overwhelm all rational thought. It was getting darker and colder, and I knew that I wouldn't find my way to anywhere unless I moved my arse out of... wherever I was. Needing a way off the ledge, I turned and upon closer observation I realised there was a small slope on the far side of the ledge I was on leading to the one above it.

As I walked towards the slope, I noticed that my thighs weren't touching. I looked down again, this time lifting my baggy jogging jersey (not that I ever actually _jogged_ ) to get a better look at my crotch. There was a gap there that hadn't existed that morning. Surprised and suddenly more curious than freaked out, I lifted my jersey higher; my stomach was completely flat, toned, even. The ravages of childbirth _nowhere_ to be seen (that I could see in the fading light); no flabby skin, no pink-and-purple stretch-marks. Heck, this was even better than before I had Ali! _What the..._

Before I had time to decide if I was dreaming or not, there was a _whoosh_ past my ear, then there were three people - one holding a notched bow in my direction - walking down towards me from the top of the upper ledge down the little slope.

"W-what..." came a female's American accented voice, stuttering with fury and disbelief. "What in the Maker's name have you done?!" She shouted on the last three words.

I looked at the flowers I had trampled earlier. "I'm so sorry about the flowers-"

"I don't care about the flowers!" She hissed, one eye closed and the other eye honed on me, ready to loosen the next arrow. "What did you do with the statue you-you _heartless_ bitch?!"

There was something sort of off about these people that I couldn’t quite place, and I wondered if they had anything to with my being there. Extremely concerned about becoming a potential pin-cushion, I tried to talk calmly. "Look, I've no idea how I got here and there were only flowers when-"

"Do you think this is _funny_?" She hissed. She was pretty short, shorter than me at least and I was just over five feet tall or something like that, and had very, very red hair. She was flanked by a tall, young man; he and the older, grey-haired man both looked utterly uncomfortable.

"No, of course not!" I shouted back. I straightened up-suddenly getting tired of being scared-and my anger returned, adrenaline spiking. "I wake up here, on some cliff, fucking no idea how I got _here_ and then a bunch of people show up and one pulls _this_ shit," I waved at her bow, "in my fucking face! I am not some fucking juvenile delinquent who goes and disturbs memorials! I am fucking confused and freaked out and I WANT TO GET THE FUCK BACK HOME!" I roared at her, stomping forward.

I must have frightened her, because she loosed her arrow, and I just managed to move out of the way fast enough to avoid having it lodged into my skull. Instead, it cut across my right eyebrow and flew into the distance, blood oozing into my eye. I dropped to my knees in absolute shock. The young man proceeded to rip the bow from her unresisting hands, both their faces devoid of colour.

Before I knew it, the older of the three came rushing towards me, a piece of cloth ready to put to my wound. The rush of adrenaline numbed the pain, and the shock of nearly dying removed my will to protest. I just glared at the woman, and then at the young man with her shade of red hair. I finally figured out what was off about them.

_They have... pointy ears? Pointy. Ears. FUCKING ELVEN EARS!_

"Shianni," the older man spoke, as calmly as he could even though I could hear the slight unevenness in his tone, "I believe her."

The young man moved closer to where I had knelt on the ground, the elder still holding the rag to my forehead. "Uncle... ?"

Shianni... that name rung a bell. Earlier, she cursed saying "Maker" instead of "God". I furrowed my brow then winced; the adrenaline rush I had been experiencing earlier was starting to fade.

"Even in this light, surely you can see the resemblance, Soris."

The young auburn-haired man, rested on his haunches in front of me examining my face with his storm blue eyes. "It can't be... can it? Uncle, how is this possible?"

"The Witch. It has to be." The Elder man looked at me, a warmth in his face, tears welling in his eyes. "Why else would this woman be here, and Kallian's statue be missing?" The woman he called Shianni put her hands to her face, expression of realisation and horror twisting her pretty features. "So, are you saying this is..."

For what seemed like an eternity, they all went quiet and just stared at me. The older man had let his tears run freely now, and the other two just looked at me as if I was some fairy-creature about to disappear into the wind.

I almost felt bad about interrupting their moment, despite the seriousness of my own situation; but Shianni had almost killed me, and now the three of them were acting as if I was some beloved long lost kitten.

As gently as I could, I shrugged off the old man and stood up to glare at each of them, forehead bleeding into my eye again. None of this was making sense, and my heart threatened to burst from my chest cavity. "Can someone please explain to me in a language we can all understand what the fuck is going on here?"

They exchanged looks, when finally the old man stood up, and offered me the rag again. I accepted it, returning it to my wound after wiping the mess out of my eye.

When he spoke, his voiced almost sounded as if it were about to crack from all the emotions his face refused to let show. "My name is Cyrion Tabris. These two here," he gestured to the others, "are my nephew and niece, Soris and Shianni." They nodded cautiously.

I knew those names, then I suddenly realised where I must be, even though it was impossible. "I'm Jemimah." I offered after a brief silence. I swallowed my fear and indignation, considering the situation I was in, to hear them out.

Cyrion smiled sadly, "It is nearly dark, and the roads-especially those outside of the city-are dangerous places to be having important conversations. It would be better to explain things in our home, if you feel safe enough to."

I glanced out over the ocean, searching the darkening skies for some sort of... sign? Reassurance? I turned back to look to the three standing before me, their expressions varied between shock, confusion, warmth and guilt. I nodded, and the four of us made our fairly short way up to the city gates; the alienage entrance.

I was in bloody _Thedas_.

When we arrived in the alienage, the first thing that hit me-almost literally-was the stench. Of course, medieval towns were supposed to smell God-awful; I'd read enough literature to know that it was unavoidable considering their bodily-waste-disposal-system, but the odour was almost overpowering. I did just come from outside of the city, but I was suddenly and desperately wishing that someone would invent underground sewage systems, soon.

The alienage was huge, so much bigger and a little less squalid than was shown in-game. Thinking about it, the difference between Origins Redcliffe and Inquisition Redcliffe was _drastic_ , which probably had more to do with time-constraints and other things, although I couldn't help but wonder if every place was going to turn out to be a very significant misrepresentation of the real thing, if the alienage was anything to go by.

The Vhenadhal tree was a sight for sore eyes, easily the prettiest thing there, especially with it's leaves turning gold in the dimming light. It was a lot bigger as well, nearly four-stories tall if my reckoning was any good. Someone had also decorated it with brightly coloured streamers and had painted the base of the trunk in bright colours of varying things I couldn't interpret. It was a stark contrast to rest of the place.

There were a few elves-people-out that night. Mostly strong-looking men carrying staves and looking menacing. But their expressions softened at the sight of our little group, and I was suddenly very glad to have met Cyrion and the others before venturing here on my own. _Potential disaster avoided. Check._

We finally reached "home", which was actually farther from the gates to the city than in-game, I noticed, and I was welcomed into an actually homely sort of place (and mercifully free of the worst of the city stench). Lot's of things in 'real life' appeared to be better than in game. Soris showed me to a seat at their table, while Shianni rushed off somewhere out of sight. Cyrion was rummaging through a chest, and then pulled out a well-loved book. I was a little surprised; I didn't think that elves-impoverished as they were-would have access to books, unless there were printing presses or something making books readily and cheaply available.

Shianni returned with a small red vial I assumed was a potion. She poured a little onto a fresh rag and dabbed my arrow-wound, smiling apologetically. Almost instantly, the dull throb had eased and there was no pain when I twitched my eyebrow. I thanked her and she nodded, returning the vial to wherever she found it.

"Kal-Jemimah," Cyrion handed me the book as he took a seat at the table, "this was... my wife's journal."

I stared at him. He was going to say "your mother", and instead of the realisation sending me into a fit of hysterics, and probably because the impossibility of being in Thedas was already happening to me, I simply nodded and accepted. Here, I was an _elf_.

_Well, at least I'm not a dwarf. Or a qunari. Thank God I'm not a qunari..._

"Her name was-"

"Adaia." I finished his sentence, and then it was his and Soris' turn to stare at me, for the hundredth time. "I have a lot of explaining to do as well, I think. Actually, what year is it?"

"It's 9:30 Dragon..."Cyrion shot me a bemused look. "But please, read this. It will explain better than any of us could about your... _unique circumstance_. At least, I hope it will."

I responded with a nod,  _Damn, I've already played Inquisition. I'm like, what, ten years in the past?_

I proceeded to read Adaia's journal. It told of how she met Cyrion in her youth, as part of the Night Elves division Loghain had formed during the Rebellion. How Cyrion was rewarded with next-to-nothing for his efforts in keeping the Orlesians from advancing on Ferelden forces and how Loghain had taken the elves' credit-their glory-for himself. How the families that had lost loved-ones were basically given fruit baskets and impersonal written apologies as compensation.

Initially I had thought that maybe there were redeeming qualities about Loghain. _Nope. Total utter douchebag. He orchestrates the murder of his King and son-in-law, places himself as Regent, allows the elves to become enslaved..._ This train of thought lead me to some questions about the current-events of Thedas. If Soris was still in the alienage, then maybe he hadn't met his human wife yet. _I'd have to ask him_ , but I figured I'd finish the journal first and ask questions later.

I continued reading Adaia's mini-rant about how selfish humans were, and that Loghain was this and that... then skimming several pages I got up to a part about how her and Cyrion finally fell in love, and had to skip a few pages in there that made my cheeks blush, when I got to the part about how Duncan had come to the alienage to recruit her. Valendrian had done the sneakies and convinced Mother Boann to come down to the alienage in the early hours of the morning to marry them. Duncan left disappointed, naturally, but was happy for them both and left without a fuss, after celebrating with them, of course.

The next entry was written much later, dated about 9:10 Dragon. Adaia was pregnant, and she and Cyrion were looking forward to the arrival of their child. She even wrote down a lullaby:

_Sun sets, little one, Time to dream. Your mind journeys, But I will hold you here._

_Where will you go, little one, Lost to me in sleep? Seek truth in a forgotten land Deep within your heart._

_Never fear, little one, Wherever you shall go. Follow my voice-- I will call you home. I will call you home._

I had to wipe away a tear that had escaped onto my cheek; it was so sweet and sad. I never had the chance to hear it, and now I wished that I was back home-that I could be there for Ali. I hoped with all my heart that my being in Thedas would be like how the Pevensie's were in Narnia; that the two time-lines were independent of each other and that I'd return home like nothing had happened.

I hadn't noticed that Shianni was sitting beside me until she passed me a handkerchief. "Sorry, about before."

I dabbed away the tears and set the handkerchief on the table. "That's... okay. I guess we were all freaked out." She looked at me with a brow raised-maybe "freaked out" wasn't a part of Thedosian vocabulary-but she didn't press further.

"You're both alive and well," Cyrion added, "and that's what's important.

Shianni and I looked at each other and we nodded. I remembered the city elf origin from the game, and I wondered if there was a way to stop Vaughan before he could come down to the alienage with his lackeys. But something... _despondent_... in her eyes told me that I was probably already too late.

“Thank the Maker Shianni only nicked you; it looks like a pretty nasty scar, though.” Soris chimed in.

I suddenly realised that I didn't know what I looked like _here_ ; probably the same as back home, just with pointy ears. Curiosity getting the better of me, I asked if there was a mirror. Cyrion shrugged, but Shianni got up to grab a shiny, silver plate and handed it to me; close enough.

My jaw dropped when I realised the dark-blonde, crimson-eyed elf staring back at me was _my own reflection_. I glared at the image in the plate. No acne scars, a bit of dried blood on my face from earlier, perfectly arched brows, my afakasi nose was smaller and more defined, but my mouth was pretty much the same. My teeth were all straight, though, and maybe it was the light from the fireplace, but my skin-still light olive-looked almost rosy. My face was slimmer, too, I had two charming dimples on either cheek and I was missing the slight double-shin that had formed after Ali's birth.

I couldn't get over the colour of my eyes, though. They were literally ruby-red. Like an albino animal's, but it was a solid colour, and reflected the light like a cat's eyes. I undid my bun and took off my lilac bandana, letting my long blonde locks fall over my shoulders.

"You look surprised," said Soris, peering at me from over the plate.

"Well... yeah!" I looked at him, almost indignant. "I look... well this as about as far from what I look like at home as you'd get from a potato to a rose!"

"You think you look like a _potato_?" Asked Soris, dead-pan expression on his face

All of a sudden, we were besieged with fits of laughter. We calmed down after a little while, and I had to wipe the tears that had built up in my eyes.

I took a deep breath to calm myself. "No, definitely not here, anyway. Back home I'm pretty average looking, if that."

"What's different?"

"Well for starters, my hair and eyes back there are brown. Dark brown. Nothing exciting like _this_." I pointed to one eye.

"Hey!" Shianni protested, feigning insult, "I'll have you know brown eyes are very exciting!"

I chuckled, "yes, maybe for an elf. As a human, it's pretty boring."

"So you were human then, over _there_." asked Soris.

"Yeah. You don't seem very surprised."

"Keep reading the journal, Jemimah. We will put on supper and as I said before we can talk about things when you're finished." I did as Cyrion suggested, and I got to the part about the birth. 9:11 Dragon, twins were born.

"Twins?" I looked up and Cyrion's gaze met mine; he nodded and went back to cooking. I continued to read. It was a fairly short labour, a girl and a boy, but neither making a sound. Breathing but not responding to stimulus. Adaia and Cyrion were terrified. They tried herbs and potions and poultices. Nothing. Neither babe stirred.

A few hours after the birth, apparently a human woman appeared, claiming to be a healer and promising that she could help. _Because that didn't sound ominous or anything_.

Adaia wrote that she and Cyrion were desperate, and that the woman said that she could save us both if they followed her instructions precisely and without question. They were scared, but they were desperate not to lose us and so they did as the woman asked.

This woman, who Adaia called the "Yellow-Eyed Witch" told them to take us and a dragonbone dagger to the same spot on the cliff where I had just met the Tabris family. She told them that they had to partake in a blood ritual to save us. They were hesitant, but the Witch convinced them it was the only way. So under the Witch's instructions, Cyrion and Adaia both cut their palms with the dragonbone dagger, and handed it to her.

She chanted some incoherent spell and a small stone, described as appearing like rose-quartz, appeared in mid-air. The witch grasped it, continued her spell and then a glyph appeared underneath their feet. The Witch asked for... their daughter... and ushered everyone else out of the glyph, and basically off the ledge back onto higher ground.

Before they could lean over and see what she was doing with me, there was a flash of bright light, and my brother started crying. Adaia and Cyrion, my parents, were so excited that their son was finally awake, they almost forgot to ask the Witch of my whereabouts.

The next few pages were covered in little spots that puckered the pages slightly. Tear stains.

The Witch told them that payment for "saving us" had been paid. My parents, horrified, begged her to tell them where I was. She pointed down to the lower ledge on the cliff and all they could find was a life-like statue of my infant form carved in rose-quartz embedded into the cliff-face. Adaia apparently broke down into a sobbing mess, not that I blamed her, and it was Cyrion who confronted the Witch.

Apparently both mine and my brother's souls were stuck between worlds, and that we had to be "dislodged" from wherever we were in order to "wake up". But instead of waking us both up here, the Witch sent my soul further into the unknown, or the Void; that apparently I was to fulfill a destiny that concerned "all people" and that I needed "special education" that wasn't available in Thedas. She returned the dagger and said that I would always physically be _here_ , in _this_ world. She put my body into "a crystal sleep", and that was the rose-quartz statue where my mother was crying in front of.

Too distraught to push the Witch for more questions, my father went back down to console my weeping mother, and they embraced my brother and mourned for me. For the next two decades, they would place flowers at my "statue", watching it magically grow into a woman and would pray that my soul was in peace.

Well, I don't think my life could've been any less peaceful. But I didn't blame Adaia or Cyrion. I surprised myself-I was usually the _worst_ at holding grudges, but I couldn't help but feel sorry for my misguided elven parents.

Adaia wrote that when they returned, they told their friends that I couldn't be saved, and that they had buried me not far from the cliff, explaining my absence.

They named my brother Darrian, and me, Kallian.

I closed the book putting it on the table, stood up and walked over to where Cyrion stood. He was watching the delicious savoury smelling stew boiling in the pot over the fire, and when he turned, I hugged him like a little girl hugs her pa after he comes home from work. Cyrion returned my hug without a word, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he had always been my pa, and I'd always been his daughter.

I pulled away to sit at the table again. “So that's why you're not... fussed about me?”

“Well, you _do_ sound different...” Soris teased.

“It's a kiwi accent.” I laughed. “Where I was born, most people sound like this. I think.”

“A kiwi?”

“It's a... flightless bird. A bit like a chicken but with a long thin beak. And it's against the law to eat them.”

He raised a disbelieving eyebrow at me. “I thought that _you_ were a kiwi? You... That makes no sense...”

I couldn't help but giggle. “Hey, look, one day I'll explain things properly.” I turned and looked up into my father's weathered face. "Where's Darrian?"

The look of utter sorrow he gave me told me, and my heart sunk to the floor. The plate Shianni was holding also fell to the floor with a clank, and I slid out of my seat to give her a hug. Our earlier confrontation completely forgotten, she sobbed into my shoulder muttering her apologies. Soris ushered us to the bunks in another room of the cottage, and we sat with her quietly while she calmed down.

Soris asked to continue our conversation at the table and to eat, and Shianni lay down on the pallet. Neither of us we keen on making her re-live whatever horrors she had experienced to have made her cry at the mention of Darrian's name.

At the table Soris proceeded to tell me the story of the infamous City Elf Origin wedding. It was as I knew it; Vaughan had decided that it was his right to take all the young women to his place by force after a certain confrontation, and Darrian, Soris and a few of the other elves decided that they'd break into the Arl's estate and rescue the women. One of the bridesmaids was murdered before the others' arrived, and Shianni had already been assaulted before she was found in Vaughan’s room.

Vaughan had tried to offer Darrian money to let the women stay with him, and Vaughan's misjudgement cost him his life; my brother slit Vaughan’s throat and killed his goons, took the key to his treasury from his corpse, looted the treasury, hid the loot and returned the women to the alienage.

When the guards came for them, Darrian took sole responsibility - he didn't give Soris the chance to object-and that was the last time he was seen alive.

I nodded grimly. I wouldn't shed a tear for the brother I'd never get to meet; instead I'd honour his memory by doing what I could to improve things for the elves of the alienage, if possible.

I asked Soris how long ago this took place.

"Over two months ago." He shot me a questioning look.

I furrowed my brow in confusion. "So, where's your _wife_?"

He looked down at his feet, studying the floor. His face blanched. "Tevinter Slavers."

I instantly regretted just blurting out my question like that. "I-I'm so sorry, Soris." I swirled the remainder of my broth in my bowl. "When did the... when did the slavers get here?"

Soris gulped down the last of his stew, "Shortly after Loghain returned from Ostagar and declared himself regent. Maybe about a week later these 'healers' arrived claiming the alienage was suffering from a plague and that only _they_ could help us.

"They had somehow convinced the rest of the city that the alienage was quarantined because of some plague. But really, we were recovering from a series of riots, the last one being after Loghain declared himself regent."

I snorted, “of course they would say that. I'm glad that you figured out the slavers scam before it got any worse. Damn Loghain to hell! First he kills off Cailan and Duncan-”

"You must be mistaken, because Duncan was _here_ shortly after the slavers."

" _What?!_ " I choked on nothing in particular, spluttering, unable to believe my ears.

"In fact _he_ was the one who warned us of their scheme and of Loghain's betrayal at Ostagar."

"Wait... what do you mean Duncan _survived_? He _isn't_ dead?" I gaped.

_That wasn't supposed to happen! He was supposed to have died at Ostagar with Cailan... What the hell is going on here?!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh... I didn't beta this chapter... :-D
> 
> Also:
> 
> "Afakasi" - half-caste. People of mixed Polynesian descent, sometimes describe themselves or their physical traits as such.
> 
> "Sneakies" - a misleading or deceptive course of action. To "do the sneakies" on someone is considered to be a pretty uncool thing to do, unless it's between close friends as an inside joke or something.


End file.
